Esme
by silentstarlight
Summary: Esme Anne Platt, a child with dreams. Esme Evenson, a wife who became a strong woman. Esme Cullen, vampire with a family of her own. Esme's story, as she met Carlisle Cullen, married Charles Evenson, became a vampire, and mothered her new-found family.
1. Life Begins

Esme

Life Begins

* * *

I was born Esme Anne Platt to Anne and Mark Platt on May 3, 1895. They told me it was a beautiful sunny day when I was born—apparently, the weather would have an effect on my personality; at least, that was what Grandmother Esme, whom I was named for, told me—and I was immediately doted on; for I was the only child my parents had who was born alive and survived infancy.

However, it was not until I was six, when I learned to read, that I began to exist. Suddenly, a whole new world was opened. I no longer had to wait for Grandmother Esme or Grandmother Caroline to tell me a story. I no longer had to wait until bedtime for one of my parents to read me a story. I could take a book and immerse myself within its plotline.

My love of reading came as a considerate relief to my mother, who was beginning to think that she and my father had given me too much free reign as the only child. Prior to my discovery of books, I ran around everywhere. I fell into the nearby creek too many times to count and my father was constantly lifting me out of tree branches when I could not climb back down.

And so, I devoured books. I read Heidi and demanded to sleep in the attic on a mattress of hay (my mother set her foot down on that one. She would not have hay in her household). I read The Wizard of Oz and decided that I would someday go west and get caught up in a cyclone so that I might return in a hot air balloon.

But, it was not until I accidentally stumbled across a book of Greek temples at the library in Columbus my parents took me to once a month, that I became truly alive. At age nine, I fell in love with the Pantheon of the Roman gods and Athena's Parthenon. The rose windows of the Gothic cathedrals fascinated me. And, I begged my parents to take me to Egypt to see the Great Pyramids.

So whenever my friends—Rebecca, Cynthia, Irene, and my second cousin Harriet—and I discussed our dreams for our futures and our dream houses, I always sketched for them a peristyle temple with a frieze and towering Corinthian columns. As I grew older, I knew it was a silly fantasy; but it was a nice one.

Though the one thing I swore to remember on my deathbed was not even related to architecture or reading. However, the incident could be blamed on a book.

It was 1911, I was sixteen years old, and I had finally secured a copy of Anne of Green Gables from the library to read. I wished to read the books uninterrupted, so I did something my mother thought she had finally snapped me out of. I climbed a tree.

Not just any tree, but the tallest tree a quarter mile radius from our house.

I made myself comfortable on the wide branch and began to read. And I laughed through all the scrapes Anne got herself into to. By the time I arrived at the episode where Anne escapes a certain drowning during a play-acting of Elaine, she had already broken her slate on Gilbert's head, intoxicated Diana, starched the handkerchiefs, served the minister's wife liniment cake, and dyed her hair green. And I was laughing. I laughed so hard, that I fell from my perch in the tree, and my laugher quickly turned to cries of pain and calls for help when I discovered that I could not stand due to the streaks of white-hot pain whenever I tried to stand.

I must have fainted, because when I opened my eyes, it was growing dark and I was on my way to the first hospital my parents could reach in Columbus. Our local doctor had gone to see his first grandchild, which forced my parents to take the hour-long drive to the city.

Except the ride did not take the whole hour. Forty minutes later, my parents spotted a smaller hospital that they had completely forgotten about; they were going to take me to the larger hospital in the middle of the city, but once they remembered this hospital, they rushed me inside.

That was when I first saw Dr. Carlisle Cullen—the man who would help make my existence hell, and heaven. I smiled at him through the pain before I blacked out again.

**A/N:** First Twilight fic. I feel that there aren't enough Esme fics out there, and most of the ones that are aren't completed. So this is my contribution. Reviews are appreciated and constructive criticism is loved!


	2. Awestruck

Esme

Awestruck

* * *

When I came to again, it was dawn. My leg was slightly elevated and it was neatly wrapped.

"Are you awake, Miss Platt?" a voice from beside me asked. "How do you feel?" I looked to my left and saw the man I had seen before I blacked out. That time, I had only noticed him, but this time, I saw him; he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

I compared him to the Classical and Hellenistic Greek statues, all the known David statues, and the paintings done by the Renaissance artists—and he was still the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

"Miss Platt, could you answer me?" the doctor asked. I snapped my attention back to the present and opened my mouth to talk. But, the only noise I made sounded like a sick sheep bleating and a person choking. He smiled and poured me some water from the pitcher into a cup, both which were on a small table next to my bedside.

I drank greedily and cradled the cup before trying to talk again. "I _think_ I feel fine," I felt disoriented, so I put special emphasis on 'think'.

"And I _think_," he also put emphasis on 'think', "Miss Platt, that you are fine." He was fighting back a grin, and his strange golden eyes were filled with laughter. With his blond hair, beautiful features, and white doctor's coat, I would have mistaken him for an angel anywhere else.

"Miss Platt, I am Dr. Carlisle Cullen, your attending physician. You have a broken leg and a rather nasty bruise on the back of your head. Would you mind telling me how this came about? Understandably, your parents were not very coherent last night."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, "My parents! Where are they?" I looked around wildly for my mother and father.

"Calm down, Miss Platt," he placed a hand on my arm for comfort. His hands were surprisingly cold for such a warm room. I guessed that he had been writing at a desk for some time, as my father complained of the same situation. "Your parents went home after knowing that you are healthy and would be well cared for. They will be back tonight. I believe they had to tell your grandmothers the news."

"Grandmother Caroline is going to have a fit!" I cried gleefully. "She's my mother's mother," I said by way of explanation to Dr. Cullen, "and she believes that broken bones are the sign of the devil at work. Grandmother Caroline thinks that if humans were ever to have broken bones, we would have been born with all our bones broken. However, I believe that would be a painful life." Dr. Cullen nodded his agreement to my belief. He stayed quiet and allowed me to talk. "But Grandmother Esme, my father's mother—I'm named after her, you know—, she would just cackle at Grandmother Caroline, insist that I take her with me so she would not miss out on the fun next time, and domineer my mother's kitchen to bake me some cookies. Of course, she is likely to scare away the hired help again, in that fashion. But I think that it will be all worth it."

"Because in the end, you will be in possession of the cookies," Dr. Cullen concluded.

"Yes, sir." I replied brightly. I could already imagine the plate of warm snickerdoodles from the oven with their cinnamon scent. "But I figure that I will have to arrive home first so these events may take place. You said my parents will come for me later, sir?"

"Yes, Miss Platt. Your parents said they would return to take you home around six o'clock. But you still have yet to say how you came about your broken leg and nasty bruise."

"Oh." I immediately launched into my story. This man had let me talk about something very frivolous, something he likely was not even interested in, and had not scolded me for it. I felt that I would do anything for this beautiful angel who allowed me to speak uninterrupted.

"Last week, at the library, I finally had the chance to barrow a copy of Anne of Green Gables. Yesterday, I finally had the opportunity to start reading the book. You see, my mother has a habit of interrupting me in the interesting parts, so I climbed the highest tree that I could find and made myself comfortable and started reading.

"It really is a funny book, sir. Anne Shirley has the habit of getting into the most interesting scrapes. I was reading the episode where Anne and her friends were play-acting Elaine, the lily maid, I laughed so hard, that I lost my balance and fell out of the tree. I do not remember hitting my head on the ground, so I can only presume that the bruise is from my head hitting a branch on the way down.

A middle age woman entered just in time to hear the last part of my narrative. The heavy-set woman with steel hair immediately turned to the doctor and said, "Dr. Cullen, we _cannot_ even _think _about sending this young lady home _tonight_!"

"Why ever not?" he asked. "Apart from her leg and the bruise on her head, she seems perfectly fit. I do not believe that there is a need to keep her here any longer."

"But that is exactly why!" the woman cried out. "Miss Platt is a young lady. A broken leg and a bruise on her head is traumatizing! A boy or a man, maybe they would be able to leave tonight. Young ladies are delicate _things_, Dr. Cullen. They _must_ be handled like _fragile glass_. Why, I am surprised that Miss Platt is not in hysterics over the situation right _now_!"

She turned to me, her large chest heaving. "Child, I am _so_ sorry that Dr. Cullen is _so_ insensitive to _our_ gender. It is absolutely," she said with her eyes closed and her face moving for emphasis, "_atrocious_ that he thinks that a delicate young lady such as yourself would only need _half a day_ to recover from an accident that you were in." I bit my lip to prevent myself from giggling. My teacher at school would have a fit from all the italics she was putting in her speech.

"Dr. Cullen, you may take yourself to your office to write a note to this young lady's parents that they may come to gather her tomorrow night at the earliest."

And that is how I ended up staying at the hospital for two nights and two days. The italics woman who sent off Dr. Cullen introduced herself as Nurse Steele. She chattered on about the weak constitution of women, and how she, was fortunate enough to have avoided that, unlike the millions of other woman out there, like myself.

She fussed over me for a few more minutes, helped me sit up, and gave me my tray for breakfast before going off to italicize other people in a different wing.

Having skipped dinner last night, I was hungry, and ate more than I usually would have had. So, uncomfortably full, I managed to lull myself back to sleep by counting the number of spots on the ceiling.

By the time Dr. Cullen came back in the early afternoon with my lunch tray, I was bored and picking at my sheets.

"Hello, Miss Platt. I have managed to convince Nurse Steele to let me bring in your lunch tray as an apology for my behavior this morning."

I laughed aloud, and Dr. Cullen set the tray on my lap before drawing a chair up to my bed.

"And I have brought a gift in hopes of redeeming myself." He held up a book and I made out the title Anne of Green Gables on the cover. "For you," he said, putting it on the bedside table. "After you are finished with lunch," he smiled.

* * *

"Oh, Esme Anne Platt! Don't you ever do this to us again!" Cynthia cried out when she saw me at school on Wednesday. "We were worried sick about you when you didn't show to school on Monday. Right, girls?"

There were murmurs of consent as the girls each took one of my textbooks to help lighten the load from the bag that was slung on my shoulder. We stopped at the stairs leading to the second story of our school, where our classroom was located.

"Oh, bother," I said. "Papa or Cousin Nick usually takes me upstairs at home, but…"

"Don't worry," Rebecca soothed, "we'll find someone to carry you up."

"Michael Stevenson!" Irene hollered, the most unlady-like thing I had ever see her do. "Come over here right now!"

I really was not surprised when the 5'11'' young man immediately dropped the ball his friends had passed to him and rushed over. Irene had managed to sound like an irate mother, and she had the facial expression to match.

"Yes, Irene?" he asked.

"Would you carry Esme up to the classroom? She might hurt herself if she hops all the way up."

Obediently, he carried me up the stairs and set me down at my seat. Harriet was right behind him with my crutches.

"I need you to carry Esme back down after school. Everyday until she can walk by herself."

"You'll be the death of me, Irene."

"I know."

"I'll take away your embroidery," he said.

"I'll take away your gun."

"I'll refuse to chop firewood."

"I'll ensure you sleep in the barn."

"Being married to you is an adventure, Irene."

"Yes, its just thrilling. Now go back to your friends before they come looking for you, Michael."

Irene turned back to us and immediately turned red.

"And what was that about?" Cynthia asked.

"But we want to know what happened to Esme!" Irene protested.

"We'll find out what happened to Esme first. Then we'll come back to you," Harriet interjected.

Four set of eyes turned to me.

"Well," Rebecca asked, "What happened?"

"I fell out of a tree while.."

"We know that part!" cried Harriet. "That was about all I could get out of Aunt Annie. Tell us what happened at the hospital."

I told them about Nurse Steele, my clumsy first efforts on my new crutches, and my conversations with Dr. Cullen.

"When he came by, he just let me talk, talk, and talk. And, he listened to every word I said! I even told him about you girls."

"You did not!" Irene cried out.

"I did! And do you know what he said?"

"I presume you are going to tell us?" Harriet said.

"He said that I am very luck to have girls like you four for my friends. And you know what? Dr. Cullen is right. I wouldn't trade you four for all the jewels in the world!"

"Oh, Esme," Harriet sighed, touched. Cynthia pulled out her handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

"Only someone with a heart as big as yours could say something like that," Rebecca said softly. Irene nodded her agreement.

There were two things I neglected to tell my friends. One was a note I found in the book Dr. Cullen gave me. The other was the latter part of the conversation I had with him on friends.

"_What about you, sir?" I asked, "What about your friends."_

_Dr. Cullen sighed and rubbed the space between his eyebrows. "I'm afraid that I am meant to walk this earth alone, Miss Platt."_

"_Isn't lonely?" I pressed._

_He stared at the sunlight coming in through the far window like a man who saw his love from afar but could not reach her._

"_It is how I am. However, I am quite content with my work."_

_I frowned, and promised myself that I would pray that God might send a few friends Dr. Cullen's way so that he might be able to share his life with them. Every night until I died. Until I knew my prayer would no longer be needed._

* * *

And time passed. I soon regained the use of both legs. Rebecca graduated from school. Irene and Michael kept bantering about life married to each other for a few minutes before class started, and Noah Barclay started asking if he could walk Cynthia home from Wednesday night prayer meetings.

Noah Barclay was at least six years older than us. Or Cynthia at least. Harriet and Cynthia were seventeen. Irene and I were sixteen, but our birthdays were fast approaching. And Rebecca who had graduated a year ahead of us, was eighteen.

When Noah's father died when he was fifteen, Noah dropped out of school to run his family's farm. It was then, his mother started falling ill.

Grandmother Caroline said Mrs. Barclay fell ill because God had stolen her better half, and because woman could not live without man, and her man had died, it was only right that she die too to join him in heaven. Though this did make me think about Grandmother Caroline. Grandfather William had died before I was born, and for all my sixteen years, Grandmother Caroline did not show any inclination of joining my grandfather in heaven.

Grandmother's Esme's reason made more sense. She said that Mrs. Barclay worshipped the ground her husband walked on—though I always thought it was the husband who worshipped the ground his wife walked on. So when he died, she lost the will to live and passed on.

My mother's explanation was the most obvious. Mrs. Barclay had consumption, and the stress from her husband's death had only made it worse until it killed her.

For whatever reason Mrs. Barclay fell ill and died from, three years later after she had been buried and her son started courting our friend, we didn't care. What did matter, was that dear Cynthia had no clue what to do with the attention.

"The Boyle's won't let their daughter marry until she's nineteen," my father said when the topic was brought up at home. "It's a good match though. Noah works hard and his farm is close to her family's. And his younger sister could use the female influence."

"But Cynthia dear won't be able to go to college like she always dreamed of. Her parents were considering to let her go before Noah Barclay started courting her."

"People should know, that they never get what they want out of life." Grandmother Caroline barked out.

"We know mother," my father said pleasantly, "Cynthia's a smart girl, but I don't know why she'll have use for a college education. She's better off learning how to run a household than getting her head stuffed with Greek and Latin. Esme should be learning how to run a household too, instead of reading all those books of hers. You should take her in hand, Anne, or the girl will never get married."

I was eavesdropping from behind the kitchen door. I was about to go in when I heard them talking about Cynthia. I knew it was wrong to listen, but I couldn't help myself. I stayed there listening, about how I should be raised and the world in general, until Grandmother Esme silently touched my shoulder and led me upstairs.

Two months later, Noah Barclay and Cynthia Boyle announced their engagement. They would be married a month after she turned eighteen.

I was forced to re-think my position in life. I wanted to teach, and go to Europe to see all the wonderful buildings I had read about there. And I was sure I would be able to do these things eventually, I lived in America. If I worked hard enough, I would be able to accomplish anything. It was the American Dream.

But now, I wasn't quite sure. My father wanted me to get married soon, but I wanted to do things my own way.

In the safety of my room, I pulled out Dr. Cullen's note and re-read it repeatedly for comfort.

* * *

**A/N:** My constant worry while writing this story is whether I'm writing in context of the time period or not. I never thought my AP US History education would become somewhat useful.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, Twilight is a large community, so I'm thankful that readers were able to spare a few minutes to read Esme.

Reviews are appreciated and constructive criticism is loved!


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